


In which the forest Sprite encounters a Dream

by Brick_Road



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dream Team - Fandom, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, dream - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brick_Road/pseuds/Brick_Road





	In which the forest Sprite encounters a Dream

The sprite flitted through the trees in the woods near L’manburg, avoiding the gaps in the trees, afraid to be seen by the strange group of people living there. He had heard the tales of what had happened there, the elven ballads, the epic legends, everything. Tales of anger, of violence, of betrayal and regret. 

He wanted no part of it.

The sprite wanted no part in the comings and goings of the nation of L’manburg, for he had already crossed paths with two L’manburg citizens, a human boy and a man of two natures. They had stolen from him, and razed his little mushroom house to the ground. He wanted no part of their corruption, their betrayal and brutality. 

It was his desire to stay hidden which had him fleeing to climb and hide amongst the leaves at the top of the highest redwood tree in the forest as he heard graceful, measured footsteps behind him. He peered curiously at the intruder who had so rudely interrupted his dance through the trees, a tall man, he was, wearing a long, yellowish coat. Or so the sprite thought, anyway, he never had been the best at discerning colour. 

But it wasn’t the man’s height, or his garish choice in fashion, that set him apart from the almost ordinary people of L’manburg. It was his skin, and face, made from ceramic and cracked and crumbling in places, and the strange way in which his simple features seemed to be painted on his skin. 

Strangeness aside, the man seemed friendly enough, as he hummed a tune happily and swung his axe gently as he walked. So the sprite followed him, followed him through sunny meadows, through snowy tundras, for hours and hours until they arrived at a sandy beach. The beach held a small, white tent, and a small log cabin hidden amongst the sand dunes. The tent held a boy, a boy who the sprite knew all too well. 

This boy was the boy who had burned his beloved little home. 

He seemed to be different now, though, muted and dulled compared to the bright, laughing, vibrant boy he had encountered all those weeks ago. The sprite was almost sad for him, almost. He wondered what could have happened to the boy that could ruin him so completely, age him in the most tragic way possible. 

The sprite was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a cry of anguish… or was it fear? He looked up, and recoiled, holding back a shriek of terror, as the man became something that was not a man at all, but a monster, an eldritch abomination, the likes of which should never see the light of day, let alone terrorize a young, once carefree boy in this way. 

It had three faces, three sets of arms. Its skin had turned from a light grey ceramic material, to a monstrous, dark green, shiny metal, and blinding white light seemed to spill from the cracks in the otherwise unblemished material. Its legs were longer than the tallest redwood tree in the sprites home forest, and its once pleasant, smiling face had turned to a hideous, evil, smirk. 

The sprite barely had time to react as everything around the monster exploded, and it bent to crouch near the now wounded boy, its voice echoing, booming, as it calmly said.

“I bet you regret betraying me now, child”


End file.
